


Making Progress

by RizaHawkeyePierce



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25750699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RizaHawkeyePierce/pseuds/RizaHawkeyePierce
Summary: Hawkeye comes to visit BJ and his family a few months after the war ends. It may be more than a social call, and all of them - Hawkeye, BJ, Peg, and Erin - will need to find ways to support each other in the difficult transition back to civilian life.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, B. J. Hunnicutt & Erin Hunnicutt, B. J. Hunnicutt/Peg Hunnicutt, Erin Hunnicutt & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Peg Hunnicutt & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. Captains Outrageous

BJ stood, waiting, on the hot tarmac of the San Francisco airport. The weather was sweltering, much hotter than an average day in September. BJ plucked at the collar of his Hawaiian shirt, trying to create a breeze, but the sweat-soaked fabric was sticking to him.

 _Why does it always take planes so long to taxi?_ he wondered idly as he watched the plane winding its way toward the airport at seemingly glacial speed. Soon enough, however, the plane came to a stop and the ground crew rolled a staircase over to the plane door, while others fussed with the compartment on the plane’s underbelly and started to throw the baggage haphazardly into a large bin. BJ nodded, thinking to himself that if he ever flew again, he definitely wouldn’t be checking his bags.

The door to the plane finally opened and people started to stream out, looking ruffled and exhausted as they always did after a flight. BJ searched their faces, feeling oddly nervous. After a few months, he wasn’t sure if their friendship would be the same. Could be the same, without the crazy pressure throwing them together, making them rely on each other for nearly everything.

As soon as Hawkeye appeared in the plane’s doorway, also dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, BJ’s face broke into a huge grin, and he waved up at Hawkeye.

“Hawkeye! Hawk!” he called.

Hawkeye looked around at the sound of his voice and, catching sight of BJ, he, too, grinned like a maniac.

“Beej!” he yelled, waving back. Once the slow-moving line of travelers had allowed him two thirds of the way down the staircase, he vaulted over the side and ran over to BJ, his suitcase flapping behind him. They hugged, slapping each other on the back, then Hawkeye pulled back to look at the hand-scrawled sign BJ was holding.

“Pinhead? What’s that about?”

“Well, I thought you might need some identification.” BJ laughed as Hawkeye shoved him.

“Is that everything? Did you bring anything else?” BJ asked.

“Nope, this is all,” said Hawkeye, flapping his somewhat battered suitcase. “Learned to pack light, thanks to the Army. Semper fi, etc.”

“I think that’s the Marines.”

“Is it? I never bothered to learn the catchphrases.”

“Yeah, the draft board didn’t bother to mention them to me, either. C’mon, let’s go to the car before I melt.” BJ took Hawkeye’s suitcase and slung it over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to say anything, Beej.” said Hawkeye, waving a hand in front of his nose as they started to walk toward the parking lot.

“That’s a lie. You never don’t want to say anything.”

“Only when I’m awake.” Hawkeye grinned.

BJ had intended to catch up with Hawkeye on the half-hour drive out to his house, but Hawkeye nodded off almost immediately when they pulled out of the airport parking lot. It felt a little surreal, hearing Hawkeye’s familiar snores as he drove up the coast, with the ocean glittering on his left and a vineyard on his right, the vines heavy with grapes, their sweet scent mingling with the salt on the ocean breeze. Whenever he blinked, he seemed to see the inside of the Swamp and smell the dirty socks, bad gin, and sweat that had permeated the tent. And blood. Always blood.

BJ looked over at Hawkeye, whose head rested against the window with his mouth hanging open. He looked tired, in a different way than the other passengers leaving the plane had. Weary, somehow, even while he slept. Like he’d looked right at the end of the war, after the psych hospital. BJ had hoped, when Hawkeye had asked to come visit, that he wouldn’t see that expression, but traces of it still showed.

They pulled into the long dirt driveway up to BJ’s house, freshly completed only two weeks ago. He smiled at the sight of Peg sitting on the porch swing, reading a book to Erin. She looked up and waved as she saw the car slowing to a halt.

BJ pulled the keys from the ignition and reached over to Hawkeye, and shook his shoulder gently.

“Wake up, Hawk.”

Hawkeye’s eyes flickered open and he gazed around blearily.

“What, we got wounded?”

“War’s over, Hawkeye,” said BJ, keeping his hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder, watching his expression.

“Right,” said Hawkeye. He blinked a few times, coming back to the present. “Right, yeah.”

BJ wasn’t sure what to say, so he slung his arm around Hawkeye’s shoulders and squeezed in a kind of half-hug. “Ready to meet Peg?” he asked, letting go.

“Ready? I think I already know her, from all those letters you read me.”

“Nothing like the real thing.”

They left the car, BJ pulling Hawkeye’s suitcase from the backseat. Peg came down to meet them, Erin cautiously following, one thumb in her mouth.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” said BJ, wiggling his fingers at Erin. She gave a small smile before hiding behind Peg’s skirt. _Well, that’s progress,_ he thought.

“Hello, Darling,” he said to Peg, kissing her on the cheek. “This is Benjamin Franklin Pierce, more commonly known as Hawkeye.” He turned to Hawkeye, “And this is my wife Margaret, more commonly known as Peg.”

Peg extended her hand and Hawkeye took it, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hunnicut.”

“Call me Peg, please. I feel like I already know you, from all BJ’s told me.”

“Hey, that’s what I said,” said Hawkeye, grinning at BJ. He turned back to Peg. “Call me Hawkeye, then. Everyone else does.” He paused. “Wait, you call your _husband_ ‘BJ’?”

“Sure,” said Peg.

“But you must know his actual name. They had to use it at the wedding.”

“The pastor whispered it in my ear, and BJ swore me to secrecy.” Peg smirked mischievously.

“You’ll never find out,” said BJ, as Hawkeye threw his hands up in frustration. “You might as well give up.”

Peg turned and picked up Erin, turning her to face Hawkeye.

“And this is Erin. She’s three, as of last week.”

Hawkeye froze for just a second. “Hello, Erin,” he said after a deep breath, smiling at her.

Erin hid her face in Peg’s shoulder. Peg laughed.

“Sorry, she’s been shy lately. Erin,” she said softly to her, “this is Daddy’s friend Hawkeye.”

Erin turned her head enough so one eye could look at Hawkeye suspiciously.

“What if I was a fish, Erin?” said Hawkeye. “Would you like me better as a fish?” He puffed out his cheeks and flapped his hands at the sides of his face like gills. Erin giggled, then hid her face again.

“She’ll warm up to you in a bit,” said Peg. “Why don’t you come inside?”

BJ showed Hawkeye to the guest bedroom, Erin trailing behind and hiding whenever either of them looked at her.

“Sorry about the pink sheets,” BJ said, “Mostly we get Peg’s mother coming to stay with us.”

Hawkeye sat down on the bed. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, yawning. “Sheets are all the same color when my eyes are closed.” He glanced at Erin, who squeaked and hid behind the door frame again.

“It’s too bad there aren’t any little girls around,” said Hawkeye, staring innocently at the ceiling. “Because I brought a chocolate bar for a little girl who was supposed to live here…” he opened his suitcase and pulled out a bar of chocolate, “but if she’s not here, I guess I’ll have to eat it myself.”

He waved the chocolate nonchalantly while staring in the opposite direction, and smiled as Erin crept forward, snatched the bar from his hand, and retreated outside the room once more.

“What do you say?” BJ prompted.

“Thank you,” said Erin in a barely audible mumble.

“You’re very welcome, young lady,” said Hawkeye.

“I see you’ve found the secret of parenting already - bribe children with food.”

“Hey, it worked on me when I was a kid,” said Hawkeye, shrugging. He yawned again.

“You need a nap before dinner?”

“But I’m not _tired_ , Dad,” Hawkeye said.

BJ laughed. “Get some sleep,” he said, clapping Hawkeye on the shoulder. “I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner. And--good news--I can honestly say Peg’s cooking has improved.”

“Oh yeah?” said Hawkeye.

“Absolutely - it’s now _almost_ always edible.”

“I heard that,” Peg called from the next room.

BJ grinned.

Hawkeye flopped onto the bed, kicking off his shoes, and BJ could swear he heard him snoring before he shut the door.


	2. Love and Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye spends some time with Peg and Erin when BJ is called in for surgery.

The next morning, Hawkeye opened his eyes, trying to remember where he was. The light blasting through the curtains seemed to be throbbing in an ill-timed counterpoint with the ache in his head. His tongue felt somehow both dry and fuzzy.

He staggered upright, pulling his robe around himself, and stumbled into the living room, where he found Erin playing with some dolls in a fire truck and Peg, also in her robe, looking as miserable as he felt.

“Morning, Peg,” he said gingerly, the words rattling around inside his head.

“Morning, Hawkeye,” she replied. “Can I make you some breakfast?” She made no move to rise from the armchair where she was sitting.

“No, no, my stomach is not admitting food at this time” he said, waving her off. “Do you mind if I get myself some coffee and water? And aspirin?”

“Help yourself,” she said, waving a feeble hand toward the kitchen.

Having located the lukewarm coffee in the percolator, he filled a mug with coffee, a glass with water from the sink, and hunted down a couple aspirin tablets in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

“Where’s Beej?” he asked Peg, sitting down on the couch.

“They called him in for surgery,” she said. “Or to consult, or something. I don’t remember.”

“Well, with all the whiskey he put away last night, I’m sure he’s having a wonderful day.”

“No doubt,” said Peg as Hawkeye swallowed his aspirin. She stood abruptly and hurried toward the bathroom, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I’ll take the next shift, if that’s all right with you,” Hawkeye called after her. As he sipped alternately at his coffee and his water, he noticed Erin had stopped playing and was staring after her mother, looking worried. Hawkeye swallowed, fidgeting a little, hoping Peg would be back soon.

“It’s okay, Erin,” he said after a moment. “Your mom’s feeling a little sick, but she’ll be all right.”

Erin looked unconvinced.

_You know how to talk to kids_ , he reminded himself, fighting the urge to retreat to the guest bedroom. _You were good at it once. Relax._

“It’s true, I promise. Look,” he said, sliding down to sit on the floor next to her, “until she comes back, why don’t you tell me about these toys you have here. What’s this, a fire truck?”

“No,” said Erin, looking at him a little suspiciously, “a ambulance. It takes people to see Daddy at the hospital.”

“I see. And are these ladies the ambulance drivers, or the sick people coming to see your daddy?”

“They drive it.”

“Very nice. A good career path for an enterprising young woman.” He took a swig of coffee and washed it down with a swig of water. “Where’s your hospital?”

Erin pointed at an upturned laundry basket in the corner of the room.

“Okay,” he said. He looked around at the bathroom door, which was still closed. “You better get those sick people to the hospital. I’ll go check on your mom.”

He stood, still carrying the glass and the mug, and set them down on the counter, then stood near the door to the bathroom, listening. He winced as he heard retching and the toilet flushing. He tapped softly on the door.

“Hey, Peg, you all right in there?”

She opened the door slightly, to reveal her kneeling on the floor in front of the toilet.

“Hey Hawkeye,” she said. “I’m managing.” She got to her feet, turned on the sink, and bent down to rinse her mouth.

“Well, I just recalled that you did not, in fact, help BJ and me polish off that whiskey last night, or the gin, either,” he said, leaning against the bathroom door frame.

Peg spat into the sink. “I never could drink straight liquor,” she responded.

“What’s the matter? Are you sick?” Hawkeye put his hand on Peg’s forehead, but Peg pushed it away.

“I’m not sick, Hawkeye, I’m pregnant.”

Hawkeye’s face split in a wide grin.

“That’s great! Congratulations!” He put a hand on her shoulder, and she half-smiled back.

“Thanks, Hawkeye. I’ll probably be more excited when I can keep food down.”

“Bad morning sickness?” he said, taking her arm and helping her back to the armchair.

“I’ve been surviving on mint tea and saltines,” she said, sinking down into her chair with her eyes closed.

Hawkeye, more out of habit than anything, took her wrist to measure her heart rate. She opened an eye and gave a small smile.

“So much the doctor, just like BJ.”

“Have you told BJ about this?”

Peg shook her head. “I don’t want to worry him. You know how it is, when you know all the things that could go wrong.”

“It’s important to make sure you don’t get too dehydrated,” Hawkeye continued.

“I’ll add that to my list of things to do,” said Peg, closing her eyes again.

“Can I make something for you? Is there anything that sounds good?”

Peg smiled, her eyes still closed. “I’ve been craving French toast for some reason,” she said dreamily.

Hawkeye snapped his fingers. “Perfect. I do a great French toast.”

He’d already tied on an apron and started rummaging in the kitchen cabinets when Peg got to her feet and followed him.

“Wait, Hawkeye, I can’t ask you to make me food in my own kitchen.”

“You didn’t ask me--I offered.” He pulled a bowl from a cabinet and started opening drawers, looking for a whisk.

“Even so, that hardly makes me a good hostess.”

“Take a seat, Peg Hunnicut,” he said, seizing a whisk and holding it aloft like a scepter. “I shall ask for you when your help is needed.”

Peg laughed, shaking her head, and sat at the kitchen table. Erin ran over from the living room and sat next to her mother.

Hawkeye fumbled his way around Peg’s kitchen, Peg laughing and directing him to the implements and ingredients he needed.

“ _Some enchanted eeeeveniiiing…”_ he sang as he whisked together eggs and milk.

“ _You may meet a straaaanger,”_ Peg joined him from the table.

“Ah, you like _South Pacific_?” he said, putting a frying pan on the stove to heat up.

“I’ve never seen it, but that song plays on the radio.”

“If you get a chance, I’d recommend it.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind when we finally get a company out here to perform it. _Babes in Toyland_ didn’t premiere in the Bay Area until 1948.”

Hawkeye laughed and dropped the first slice of batter-soaked bread into the pan, where it sizzled. After a minute or so, the smell of French toast started to waft through the kitchen. Peg, who had pulled out a loop of string and was demonstrating Cat’s Cradle to Erin, inhaled deeply.

“Here we are,” said Hawkeye, flipping the first two slices onto a couple plates and sliding them to Peg and Erin. He pulled a bottle of syrup he’d found in the pantry out of the pocket of his apron.

“Would Madame care for some syrup?” he asked, proffering the bottle to Peg, but she held up her hand.

“I’d better eat it plain, just to be safe.”

“Very good. And you, Mademoiselle?” he said, offering the syrup to Erin in turn. Erin grinned and nodded.

“She likes it best if you drown it in syrup, though I may need to give her a bath afterward,” Peg said, taking the fork and knife Hawkeye had brought over and cutting Erin’s toast into bite-sized pieces. Hawkeye poured the syrup liberally over the whole thing.

Hawkeye made three more pieces of toast, one for Peg and two for himself, and he sat down with Peg and Erin to eat. They didn’t talk much over the food, but after she was finished, Peg leaned back in her chair and sighed in satisfaction.

“Thanks, Hawkeye. That’s the first real meal I’ve eaten in weeks.”

“It was the first thing I made when I got home, so at that point it was the first real meal I’d eaten in _years._ ”

Peg laughed. “Well, if your career as a doctor doesn’t pan out, you could open a restaurant.”

“Only if it served nothing but French toast. My culinary skills are otherwise limited to scrambled eggs and heating canned soup.”

“All done!” said Erin, raising her fork.

“Oh, my,” said Peg, laughing. The lower half of Erin’s face was liberally coated in syrup, as were both her hands. “Did you like the French toast?” Peg asked her.

“Yummy!” Erin shouted.

“That’s good, because now you’re _very_ sticky, and you need a bath.”

Erin’s grin turned into a pout.

“Well, if you don’t want a bath after you eat something sticky, you’ll need to be more careful not to get it all over yourself,” said Peg. “But first, say thank you to Mr. Pierce--”

“She can call me Hawkeye,” Hawkeye interjected.

“All right, say thank you to Hawkeye for making us such yummy French Toast.”

Erin slid down in her chair until only her eyes and forehead were visible above the table, then quietly muttered, “Thank you, Hawkeye.”

Hawkeye felt a pang in his chest, but he did his best to smile. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Erin slid further down until she was completely out of sight.

“Was it something I said?” Hawkeye said to Peg.

She laughed and shook her head. “No, no. She’s just been shy around men for a while now. I think she’s still not used to...having men in the house.”

“She seemed to like Radar well enough when she met him, if I recall correctly.”

“I think he seemed less intimidating, since he’s such a little guy.”

“He’s great with animals, too. I think he treats children the same way he does his pets.”

“There are certainly a number of similarities between the two.” She folded her hands and bit her lip. “I probably shouldn’t have told BJ about that -- about her calling Radar ‘Daddy’. When it happened, I thought it was funny, and thought he’d think it was funny, too. But I think it hurt him. I think it’s still hurting him.” She looked down at her folded hands.

Hawkeye put a hand over his mouth pensively, remembering BJ’s startling switch from his normal cheerful, mild-mannered self to a man in uncontrollable rage and pain. “He was...upset about it,” he said hesitantly. “But I think it just brought everything he was already feeling to the surface. You couldn’t have known the effect it would have on him.”

“If I’d thought about her calling someone ‘Mommy’ for the first time, and that someone not being me, I could’ve guessed.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she blotted them with a napkin.

“Look,” said Hawkeye, reaching across the table to take her hand, “it’s not as though you meant to hurt him. And there were probably a few things that bothered you in his letters to you, right?”

Peg sighed and nodded.

“So, being apart was hard on both of you, but you both did your best, right?”

Peg gave a somewhat watery smile and nodded again. 

“Good,” said Hawkeye. He released her hand. “And I believe Erin is now wiping her hands on the underside of the table, presumably to avoid taking a bath.”

Peg leaned sideways, craning her head to see Erin. “You’re right,” she said, picking up Erin and getting to her feet. “Let’s go clean up, young lady,” she said. As she passed the window, she glanced outside and sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Hawkeye asked, pausing while collecting the plates from the table.

“Oh,” said Peg, “It looks like rain, and I have laundry on the line.”

“Do you want me to get it for you?” Hawkeye said, putting the plates on the kitchen counter.

Peg looked at him, a little surprised. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re kind enough to put me up - it’s the least I can do,” he said.

“Isn’t it...women’s work?” she asked, a suggestion of weariness lying under her words.

“Well, starting when I was ten, it was just my dad and me in the house. Turns out, it’s all just work.”

Peg smiled. “The basket is by the clothesline. And Hawkeye--”

Already halfway to the back door, Hawkeye turned back.

“--Thanks,” said Peg.

Hawkeye grinned and headed toward the door.

Halfway along the line, Hawkeye turned to find Erin watching him and almost jumped out of his skin. He looked past her to see Peg pulling weeds out of the garden.

“All clean?” he asked Erin, trying to get his heart to stop pounding.

Erin nodded and held out her hands as evidence.

Hawkeye took a deep breath.

“Can you help me with something?” he asked.

She nodded and stepped closer, and he handed her the small bucket he was using to hold clothespins.

“When I say ‘bucket’ I need you to hold it up so I can drop the clothespin into it. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded and smiled, and Hawkeye smiled back. _Making progress_ , he thought.


	3. A Full Rich Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye, BJ, Peg, and Erin take a trip down to the beach together.

A few hours later, BJ returned and the four of them went down to the beach together. The rain had passed, but patchwork clouds still passed overhead. A chill breeze made it too cold to swim, but they took off their shoes to wade in the surf. BJ had brought a camera with him, and he amused himself by taking pictures of Peg splashing through the waves, Hawkeye yelping as a wave crashed in, soaking his shorts, and Erin digging a hole in the sand.

Eventually, Peg lay on a blanket, propped up on her elbows, watching Erin play in the sand, and Hawkeye sat with the waves washing over his feet, staring out at the ocean. BJ walked up the beach to Peg, pausing to snap her picture. She heard the click and shook her head, smiling.

BJ flopped down next to her on the blanket.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Nauseous.” She sighed, turning on her side to face him. “It might get better in a few weeks. It did last time.”

BJ looked into her eyes and felt his heart speed up, as it still did sometimes. Even living with her, seeing her every day, she could still catch him off guard. He raised his hand and brushed his fingertips over her face. She smiled, took his hand, and kissed it. She held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned back to the beach, looking for Erin.

Apparently she and Hawkeye had come to some kind of agreement, as she was now holding up small shells she found for his inspection before decorating a mound of sand with them.

“They seem to be getting along,” said BJ, trying to not let the stab of jealousy he felt show in his voice. Peg seemed to realize what he was thinking, because she reached over to squeeze his hand.

“Do you think Hawkeye is okay?” she asked.

BJ looked at her, surprised. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, he just seems...sad, maybe. Or lost.”

BJ looked back down at Hawkeye and Erin. Hawkeye smiled and nodded whenever Erin showed him something, but his smile slipped whenever she looked away.


	4. Deluge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BJ and Hawkeye tell Peg stories about pranks they pulled, but it all goes sideways when BJ's secret is revealed...

That night, the three of them sat at the kitchen table in their robes, BJ and Hawkeye telling stories about pranks they’d pulled. BJ and Hawkeye were passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth, while Peg sipped club soda.

“...so then he replaced his clothes _again_ with Beanpole Levine’s.” 

“Oh, no,” said Peg.

“And of course, Charles thought he’d gained all the weight back and more, so he decided he needed some exercise,” BJ continued.

Peg laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“So he leaves to go on a jog or something, and I ask, ‘Now what next?’. And BJ says,” Hawkeye paused, struggling not to laugh, “He says, ‘Starting tomorrow, he gets taller.’”

All three of them roared with laughter.

“Speaking as someone who met Charles’ parents,” said Peg, wiping tears from her eyes, “I can almost see his reactions.”

“Oh,” said Hawkeye, slapping the table, “What did you think of the Honored Chaahles and Emelia Wiiinchestaaah?”

“Stiff as boards, both of them...until they had a few drinks.”

Hawkeye cackled.

“Did you pull any pranks on BJ?” Peg asked.

“ _Did_ we?” said Hawkeye, delighted. “Charles and I even teamed up to get him back once.”

“You don’t want to hear about that,” said BJ, waving a hand with feigned nonchalance.

“He’s _blushing_ ,” said Peg in amazement. “Tell me the story, immediately.”

BJ covered his reddening face with one hand while Hawkeye took a swig of whiskey.

“Well, he’d tricked me into pulling down Charles’ pants in the OR,” Hawkeye started.

“Tricked you?” said Peg.

“Well, we planned it together, but when no one laughed, he threw me under the bus and pretended it was only my idea. Then, I planned the perfect way to get back in the camp’s good graces-- become a victim of my own prank. I’d sit at a table with Charles in a chair in the Officer’s Club that was spread with superglue, have to cut off my pants, be sufficiently humiliated, etc, etc. Only this treacherous bastard,” he said, pointing at BJ, who was laughing silently, “switched the chairs, so Charles sat in the superglue, and it looked like I’d pulled a prank on Charles _again._ ”

Peg laughed. “So how did you get back at him?”

“I went to Charles and explained what had happened, so we came up with a plan. We waited until BJ was asleep--he’s a very sound sleeper--”

“I know,” said Peg. “If he wants a wake-up call, they have to send in a farmhand with a cattle prod.”

“So we stripped him buck naked, then carried him on his cot (covered in a blanket, of course) into one of the nurses’ tents.”

BJ was now staring fixedly at the ceiling, one hand over his mouth, his face approaching the color of a tomato.

“So he woke up in the nurses’ tent and was trapped on his cot?”

“Even better-- I knew he’d lie under that blanket all day unless he had to get up, so I got one of our radio operators to announce over the PA system that we had a new shipment of wounded, so he came rushing out of the tent...to see the entire camp waiting for him. _Everyone_ got an eyeful.”

Peg applauded, laughing. “Incredible.”

BJ, his hand now over his eyes, said, “I’m never speaking to either of you again.”

Peg, still laughing, put her arms around him and pecked him on the cheek. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s not as though you made a habit of showing off your body to nurses.”

Hawkeye, halfway through another swig of whiskey, coughed. BJ froze and stared at him.

“What?” said Peg, letting go of BJ and looking from one to the other, still half-smiling.

Hawkeye, still coughing, waved a hand. “It’s--it’s nothing,” he said as best as he could between coughs.

“What’s nothing?” she said.

“Uh--,” said Hawkeye, starting to turn red, “Well, I’m thirty-four years old and I can’t swallow properly, but I don’t know if that’s _nothing_ \--”

“What about--about BJ showing off his body to nurses?” Peg said, a crease forming between her eyebrows. She rose from her seat and gripped the back of the chair with both hands.

“Aha--” said Hawkeye, starting to grin out of nervousness, “I wouldn’t know anything about--I mean, I’m sure he didn’t, but uh, even if he did, _which he didn’t_ , I don’t think that’s something I’d, uh, know about.” He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back into place, glancing back and forth between BJ and Peg.

Peg turned back to BJ, almost reluctantly. “BJ?” she said softly. Hawkeye swallowed, looking from one to the other.

BJ met Peg’s eyes for a moment, his mouth open but unable to form words, the color draining from his face. Then he closed his eyes and turned his face away.

“No,” she said, stepping back, the corners of her mouth pulling downward. “No, you didn’t.”

Neither of them looked at her. Hawkeye’s eyes were darting around the room as though he’d been told to memorize it, and BJ’s eyes were still closed, his hands clenched into two fists in his lap. Peg stood, staring at both of them, fists clenched at her sides, breathing fast. A couple tears ran down her cheeks and she dashed them away. Finally she turned and stalked away.

BJ got up to follow her, leaving Hawkeye sitting at the table with his face buried in his hands. She heard BJ coming up the stairs behind her, but she didn’t turn around.

“Peggy--”

“Leave me alone,” she snapped.

“I-- I didn’t mean to do it--”

“Oh, yes,” she said bitterly, “You tripped and fell on her, is that it? Or she got mixed up and came into the shower when you just happened to be there too?” She went through the door of their bedroom and tried to close it behind her, but BJ slipped inside before she could.

“No--”

“Oh, _of course_ ,” she said, laughing mirthlessly. “You were _sleepwalking_ and you thought she was _me!_ ”

“Peg, can we talk about this?” he said, his expression the earnest one she’d always loved, but now it made her so angry she wanted to sock him in the nose and maybe knee him in the groin for good measure.

“ _What makes you think I want to talk to you?_ ” she hissed at him, wishing Erin were not sleeping downstairs so she could shout. He looked away, and she felt a little satisfaction at the pain in his face.

“I just--”

“Get out,” she said, running at him and pushing him in the stomach. He was so much taller than she was that he hardly budged, so she seized one of the pillows from the bed and started to hit him with it. “Get--out--get--out--get--out,” she said, pummeling him with each word. Eventually he backed his way out of the room, and she slammed the door behind him. She leaned against the door and slid down to the floor in a heap, one arm clutching the pillow, the other resting on her belly where the second child was growing. She’d been so excited when she told him -- another child to bring them closer, the way they had been after Erin was born, before the war had put some distance between them. But maybe it wasn’t the war that had caused the distance after all.

She buried her face in the pillow and started to sob.

  
  
  



	5. Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BJ is furious at himself, at Hawkeye, at everything. Hawkeye tries to calm him down, but...

BJ stood outside the bedroom, his forehead resting against the door, listening. The sound of Peg crying like that when he couldn’t help her--when it was his fault in the first place--made him feel like shards of glass were working their way through his intestines. He didn’t feel like he could leave while she was crying, so he waited until her sobs subsided, then went back downstairs to Hawkeye.

Hawkeye looked up as he heard BJ coming, but neither of them said anything as BJ picked up the whiskey bottle and took a few gulps from it. He sat down heavily at the table, turning the bottle over in his hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hawkeye asked.

BJ shook his head.

“Look, Beej, I’m sorry. She caught me off guard.”

BJ took another swig from the bottle, capped it, and slid it toward Hawkeye.

“It’s been hanging around my neck since it happened. I knew she’d find out eventually. I couldn’t lie to her forever. I’m surprised I could lie to her this long.” He tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then stood abruptly and started to pace the kitchen.

“Look, Beej, you’re not the only guy this has happened to,” said Hawkeye.

“Yeah, and do you know how much I despised those other guys?” BJ said, taking the bottle from Hawkeye and taking another swig. “They’d use the war as a vacation from their marriage. Didn’t matter to them if they broke their wives’ hearts - it’s not as though their wives could do anything but take them back. What were they going to do, divorce them and be ostracized for leaving a ‘war hero’?” BJ shook his head. “But I’m no better than they are. When I was saying goodbye to Peg before I left, I never thought I’d--” he took a swig again.

“Look, uh, Beej,” said Hawkeye, eyeing the bottle. “Maybe you should slow down a little.”

“Mind your own business,” said BJ, glowering.

“It’s just that last time you decided to drown your sorrows, I ended up as your own personal punching bag.”

BJ glared at Hawkeye for a moment, then set the bottle on the table and slid it to him. “Help yourself.”

Hawkeye took the bottle and stared at it, but didn’t take a drink. Eventually he looked back up at BJ.

“Look, I know how you feel.”

BJ scowled. “You like to say that, but you don’t, by definition. Let me ask you this: How long was your longest relationship?”

Hawkeye sighed. “About a year and a half.”

“And how did it end?”

“Look, you know this, all right? She left me because I didn’t ask her to marry me and she thought I was too absorbed in my work.”

“Okay, how about your next longest relationship? How long was that?”

“Almost three months.”

“And how did it end?”

“I broke it off with her because she was getting a little pushy about marriage, and I thought it was too soon.”

“See, you’re not really in a position to give me advice,” said BJ. “I’m not even sure you could stick out a marriage, even if you found your perfect woman.”

Hawkeye turned red. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Perfect,” he said, standing up to face BJ, still holding the bottle. “I didn’t realize I had to be some kind of marriage expert in order to try to help you. Please, tell me more about your _terrific_ marriage and how well that’s turning out.”

“You wouldn’t know what a healthy marriage looked like if it hit you in the face. And I think I’ve already had enough of your _help_ with my marriage, thanks.”

“You were the one who gave it away! I could’ve played off the cough, but she knew something was up when you reacted the way you did!”

“You told me not to tell her in the first place! If I’d written to her when it happened, like I wanted to, we’d have worked it out by now, but now it’s been festering for years, and you just went ahead and threw all of it out in the open--”

“Well, if that’s all I’ve done, maybe I shouldn’t have come!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have! If you think what you’re doing is helping, maybe you should’ve stayed longer in that psych hospital!”

Hawkeye’s face, which had been red with anger, immediately drained of color, and BJ felt a wave of regret.

“Hawk, I--”

“No, you’re right,” said Hawkeye, his face lined with fury. “Why should I be out among the normal people when I’m so _damn unstable_?” Without warning, he hurled the whiskey bottle into the corner of the kitchen, where it shattered.

A scream tore through the kitchen, and BJ whipped around to see Erin shrinking down to the floor in terror, her hands over her face. Apparently they’d woken her and she’d come to see what was happening.

BJ hurried over and sat down on the floor in front of her.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said, gently stroking her hair with one hand. She uncovered her eyes to stare at him for a moment, then she crawled into his lap, buried her face in his chest, and started to sob.

As he put his arms around his daughter for the first time since he’d gone to Korea, BJ felt a powerful wave of mixed emotions - sympathy, relief, sadness, happiness - he wasn’t sure he could name them all. He murmured something soothing to Erin and stood up, lifting her with him. Her sobs started to subside as she snuggled into his shoulder. With his free hand, he wiped away tears falling from his own eyes.

Clearing his throat, he looked around. Hawkeye was still standing frozen where he had been when he’d thrown the bottle, starting at nothing.

“You okay, Hawk?” said BJ.

“What?” said Hawkeye, snapping out of his trance. “Oh, yeah, yeah, of course. Listen, I’m sorry, I--” he took a step toward BJ and Erin, but at his approach Erin let out another wail and Hawkeye reeled backward as though he’d been struck. He pushed a hand through his hair and swallowed.

“On the other hand, I guess I’ll, uh--” he waved a hand vaguely at the mess of shattered glass and whiskey, knelt down, and started fishing shards of glass out of the splattered whiskey with his bare hands.

“Hawkeye--” said BJ, starting toward him, but Erin struggled and started crying louder, and Hawkeye flinched at the sound, so he retreated, trying to soothe her. “Hawkeye, will you stop--shh, it’s all right, honey--at least get a broom or something so you don’t cut yourself--”

BJ heard footsteps on the stairs, and he turned to see Peg in her nightgown. He met her eyes for a moment, then looked away.

“What happened?” she asked, her brow furrowed, taking in the scene. She started to edge around the kitchen table, craning her neck to see what Hawkeye was doing, and both of them caught sight of her bare feet at the same time.

“Stop!” they said together, BJ hurrying to take her elbow, still carrying Erin, and Hawkeye, still on his knees, lurching forward on one hand with the other outstretched. Peg froze. Hawkeye sucked a breath in through his teeth, and Peg, BJ, and Erin watched as he turned over the hand he’d just put into a pile of glass. Several shards protruded from it, and blood was oozing from a dozen cuts.

“Well, that’s not good,” he said into the shocked silence. He looked up at the rest of them, gripping his wrist with his good hand, and Erin started to cry once more.

Hawkeye stood abruptly. “Sorry about the mess,” he said to Peg, backing out of the kitchen toward the front door. “I hate to leave a mess--I swear I’m usually paper trained--”

“Hawk--” said BJ.

“Hawkeye, wait,” said Peg, starting after him, but he backed into the front door, fumbled it open, and backed through it, bumping his shoulder on the way out.

Peg looked at BJ in confusion. 

“I think you were right about something being wrong,” BJ said, bouncing Erin gently. She was still crying, but her sobs seemed to be subsiding once more.

“Here, I can take her,” said Peg. She took Erin from him, pulling her close. “You’d better go see if he’s okay.” She nodded toward the front door.

BJ nodded, kissed Erin on the head, went to kiss Peg, hesitated, then turned away and hurried outside after Hawkeye.

  
  
  



	6. Operation Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye's hand is injured, but that's not the only part that's hurting. BJ tries to help with both.

He found him bent over the hood of BJ’s car, leaning on it with his good hand with the other clutched to his chest. As BJ hurried over to him, he heard him breathing fast.

Hawkeye looked up as BJ approached. 

“You all right?” asked BJ, concerned.

“‘Course,” said Hawkeye, his pale face lit by the light from the kitchen window. He stood upright and started to pace back and forth. “I’m doing great.”

“Will you let me take a look at your hand, at least?” BJ said, trying to stand in the way of his pacing, but Hawkeye dodged around him.

“I’ve always found a walk under the moonlight does me good - haven’t you found that?”

“Look, Hawk--” BJ turned to follow Hawkeye, but almost collided with him as Hawkeye abruptly spun around. He put his hands on Hawkeye’s shoulders to hold him still. “If you’re having problems, you can talk to me, you know that. Just come inside, all right?”

“You think Erin’s back in bed?” Hawkeye asked, in a weak attempt at nonchalance.

“I’m sure Peggy has her asleep by now. Come on,” he said, starting to tow Hawkeye back inside.

The light indoors seemed extra bright after the darkness outside. BJ steered Hawkeye to the bathroom and turned on the sink.

“Hold your hand under there,” said BJ. Hawkeye did so as BJ rummaged through a few drawers before finally digging the first aid kit out from under the sink.

Rushing back to the kitchen, BJ grabbed a bowl and a clean towel, then spread the towel on the table and dumped some rubbing alcohol into the bowl. He tossed a pair of tweezers into it and went to fetch Hawkeye from the bathroom.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Making Dracula turn over in his coffin - all this good blood going to waste.”

“Ok, go sit at the table - I’ll grab my bag and get you fixed up.”

Hawkeye turned off the faucet and shook the bloody water from his hand as BJ went upstairs.

The bag was on his bedside table. He hesitated at his bedroom door, then screwed up his face and tapped softly.

“Peg?” he whispered. He heard the bedsprings creak and her footsteps padding softly across the carpet. She opened the door enough to frame her face, but said nothing.

“Can you hand me my bag?” he asked.

She nodded and fetched it from his bedside table. As he took it from her, their hands brushed, and he met her eyes for a moment, then looked away.

“Will he be all right?” she asked.

“Yes. He might need a few stitches, but he’ll be fine.”

“Good.” She looked at him for a moment, then sighed. “I’ll leave out some bedding for you to sleep on the couch.”

He swallowed. As long as they’d been in the same house, they’d never slept apart before. “Thanks,” he said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but no words came.

“Good night,” said Peg.

“Good night.”

He brought the bag back down to Hawkeye, pulled out a packet of gloves and a suture kit, then went to the sink to scrub up.

“So, you come here often?” he said, working the soap into a lather in his hands.

“Oh, you know,” said Hawkeye. “Only when things get rough.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, when I said I wanted to sit back with a glass in my hand, this is not exactly what I meant.”

BJ finished scrubbing, turned the faucet off with his elbow and started to struggle into the gloves he’d laid out.

“This is a lot easier when a nurse is putting them on for me,” he said.

“Well, I’d help you,” said Hawkeye, “but if I could, you wouldn’t need to put them on.”

“It’s all right, I’ve got it,” BJ said, snapping the second glove into place. “Let’s see…” he took Hawkeye’s hand and rotated it gently, looking at the scrapes.

“Nothing too serious,” he said. “You want a local while I do this?”

“What do I look like, a Marine? Of course I want a local.”

BJ took the bottle of local anesthetic and syringe from his bag, filled the syringe, tapped it, and bent down to inject Hawkeye’s palm, which was trembling slightly.

“You nervous?” he asked, making the first injection.

“‘Course I’m nervous.”

BJ smirked. “What do you have to be nervous about? Come on, you’ve seen me work.”

“But not on me. I’m sure your shoddy stitching is good enough for farm kids’ bowels, but this is a very valuable instrument.” Hawkeye pointed at his wounded hand with his good hand.

“I’ll make sure to do my best work,” said BJ.

“See that you do.”

“Ok, are you numb?” BJ asked, putting down the syringe.

“Yeah.”

“So,” said BJ, picking up the tweezers from the bowl of alcohol, “do you want to tell me what’s going on? I’m gathering this visit isn’t a social call.”

“It is, partially. I, uh… I stayed in contact with Sidney, and he hooked me up with one of his psychiatry buddies in Vermont.”

BJ glanced up from his work and nodded.

“So this guy, Dr. Darvish, he was helping me work through some things…”

“Like what?”

“Well, I--I’ve had some problems being around kids, since…” he cleared his throat. “Anyway, I was feeling like my chest was getting squeezed whenever one was in the room. Like something--something bad would happen to them just from my being there.”

BJ felt a stab of sympathy and met Hawkeye’s gaze for a moment.

“Sorry, Hawk.”

“Yeah, well. Obviously that’s not a trait you select for in your doctor, so I started seeing this guy about it. I was making some progress, when…”

“When what?” said BJ, laying down the tweezers and picking up the bottle of alcohol.

“When this came in the mail a couple weeks ago.” He fished clumsily in the pocket of his robe with his left hand and held up a sheet of paper.

“Discharge orders?” said BJ, glancing up at it. “A little late, aren’t they?”

“Look at the date, Beej,” said Hawkeye, still holding up the orders.

BJ stared at them this time. “May? But that’s--”

“Three months before the war ended?” said Hawkeye. “Three months I could’ve spent at home, instead of Hell? I could’ve missed out on the bad food, the lice, the rats. I wouldn’t have gone to the beach that day--I wouldn’t have--” he exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead with his good hand.

BJ sighed, reaching for the suture kit. “So what happened after that?”

“Well, I took some time off work, spent a few days in bed not talking to anyone, worried my dad half to death. Eventually he convinced me to talk to Dr. Darvish, who knew about you--I’d talked about you before, and he suggested I go visit you and meet Erin.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“I know I felt better having a plan, doing anything. I was supposed to tell you all this beforehand, but there’s not really an easy way to say, ‘hey, I’ve gone cuckoo again’. And maybe I didn’t want my best friend looking at me like I was.”

BJ sighed again, wrapping gauze around Hawkeye’s hand, “Listen, Hawk,” he said, “if I were to judge you for your problems, I’d also be judging myself for mine. I haven’t gone a week since I got back without waking up in a cold sweat, wondering where I was. And if I hear a loud noise, I feel like I’m right back in that camp, hoping the next shell won’t hit me. I can’t talk to Peg about it - I don’t know if I don’t want her to know, or I can’t put it into words. Maybe that’s the real problem in our marriage. I’m back, but we still have the war between us, and I don’t know how to close that gap.” He cut the end of the gauze with scissors and taped it down to Hawkeye’s palm. “I’m sorry about what I said before. I was angry at myself and taking it out on you.”

“That’s okay,” said Hawkeye. “I’m sorry I let it slip.” He pulled his hand back and moved his fingers gingerly.

“Well, it’s probably better that she knows, no matter what happens.” said BJ. He stripped off his gloves and washed his hands at the sink. When he turned around, Hawkeye was staring again at his discharge orders.

“Want to burn them?” BJ pulled a box of matches from the drawer next to the stove. Hawkeye grinned.

“My own personal ‘screw you’ to the Army. I like it.” He plopped the paper in the bowl of alcohol, BJ tossed him the matches, and he lit one (with some difficulty, holding the matchbook down with the side of his bad hand) and dropped it in.

Both of them jumped back a little from the _woosh_ of flame in the bowl.

“Ah, I love a campfire,” said BJ, sitting down at the table to watch the flames.

“Got any marshmallows?”

“No… We could roast hot dogs.”

“Nah, they’d taste off, over an alcohol flame.”

They watched in silence as the flames slowly dwindled to nothing.

“You know, Hawk, I think we’ll be okay,” said BJ.

“How do you know?”

“I don’t. But I won’t stop trying. Will you?”

“No. I guess I don’t know how to do anything else.”

“See? We’re making progress already.”

“How are you so cheerful about all this?”

“Well, my daughter hugged me for the first time today. That’s got to count for something.” His face broke into a wide grin, and Hawkeye, smiling in response, clapped him on the shoulder.


	7. Tea and Empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peg has morning sickness, and BJ makes her some mint tea.

BJ woke up for the third time as he heard his bedroom door open. He listened, and, sure enough, the bathroom door closed and he heard the sounds of Peg retching.

 _Has it been this bad for a while?_ he wondered. Maybe he slept through it when he wasn’t sleeping on the couch. He got up, went to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. Peg’s pitcher of mint tea was almost empty.

He pulled a flashlight out of the junk drawer and went out the back door to the garden. Strands of mist were swirling over the earth. No doubt by dawn the fog would be thick enough to cut with a knife.

 _Where was the mint?_ He shone the flashlight over the various plants - it was hard to tell one from another in the darkness. Eventually he rubbed the leaves of each in his fingers until he found one that smelled like mint. Tucking the flashlight under his arm, he picked a good couple handfuls and took them back inside.

Trying not to make too much noise, he put two pots of water on to boil, adding sugar to one. Once the one without sugar boiled, he poured it over the mint leaves he’d placed on a cheesecloth and draped over a bowl. The other he stirred as it boiled until the sugar was dissolved, then removed it from the heat. He strained out the mint leaves from the tea with the cheesecloth, then added the simple syrup to the tea and stirred it until they combined. He filled a new pitcher with the tea, put it in the fridge, filled a glass with the last old pitcher, and brought it upstairs.

He opened the door to their bedroom as quietly as he could, tiptoed across to Peg’s side of the bed, and left the glass on her bedside table. The moonlight outlined Peg’s form as she lay curled on her side, small in the bed by herself. BJ’s breath caught at the sight of her, and it was all he could do to tear himself away and return to the bed he’d made for himself on the couch.


	8. Dear Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye's not sure how to act around the Hunnicutts at this point...

The next morning, Hawkeye contemplated staying in the guest room for the remainder of his stay. There were a few flaws in this plan - he didn’t have any food in here, and he’d only brought one book with him, but still, it might be better than being in the presence of two people whose marriage he may have ruined, not to mention their daughter, who he’d terrified.

The biggest problem was the bathroom. After stalling as long as possible (unpacking and repacking his suitcase, reading a few more pages of his book, pacing the room aimlessly), he pressed his ear to the door, listening for any sounds of fighting he might be walking into. Nothing - everything sounded quiet. Not that he’d have been able to wait much longer either way.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to see a scene similar to what he’d seen the previous morning - Peg sitting in an armchair, Erin playing with her toys on the floor, BJ nowhere to be seen..

“Morning,” he said, as brightly as he could manage. “I’ll be with you all in just a moment.”

At the sight of him, Erin ran behind the couch to hide, and Hawkeye’s heart sank.

“Morning, Hawkeye,” Peg said weakly, waving a hand at him as he strode across to the bathroom. Once his business was finished, he considered again whether he could stay here for the rest of his visit. This room had somewhat better prospects - there was water, at least, and a toilet, even a shower. On the other hand, his being here for an extended period might cause concern for his heath, and besides, someone else might want to use the bathroom at some point.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door once more.

“So…” he said, emerging from the bathroom. “How’s...everything?”

“Apart from not being able to eat anything, finding out my husband was unfaithful to me, and having to clean up blood, whiskey, and broken glass at one in the morning?”

Hawkeye winced. “Sorry.”

Peg sighed. “I’m not really angry with you.”

“It was my blood you were wiping off the floor at one in the morning.”

“Well, I can’t be too angry with someone who’s injured. How’s your hand?”

Hawkeye moved his fingers gingerly. “Not too bad, for the amount of glass I stuck in it. BJ stitched me up.” He noticed Erin peeking out and gave her a small wave. She ducked back behind the couch. “Uh, speaking of which, where is BJ?”

“He was gone when I got up. His note said he was called in for surgery again.”

Silence spread over the room like the fog still settled outside.

“Well,” said Hawkeye, clapping his hands together (and sucking in a breath through his teeth in pain and regret), “can I make some breakfast for us?”

“More French toast?” said Peg.

“I’m something of a one-trick pony in the cooking department.”

“No, it sounds great,” she said. “I do feel bad having you cook for me, though.”

“Consider it an apology for making a mess. Uh, literally and figuratively.”

“I’ll forgive you after the first bite,” she said, smiling.

“Okay, I might need some help this time, though. Not sure I can whisk eggs left-handed.”

“Of course.”

  
  


A little while later, they sat down once more to heaping plates of French toast. Erin had been convinced to help crack eggs into the bowl (Peg fished out the pieces of shell), and she sat at Peg’s side, looking nervously at Hawkeye as she ate her toast.

Peg closed her eyes whenever she took a bite, a look of bliss on her face.

“Am I forgiven now?” Hawkeye asked.

“We’re past that - I think I might name this child after you.”

“Hawkeye works for a boy or a girl.”

Peg laughed.

They ate silently for another minute or so, then Hawkeye put down his fork.

“I feel like I should talk to you about BJ.”

A muscle worked in Peg’s jaw and she stabbed a piece of toast harder with her fork that was strictly necessary, but she said nothing.

“Look, he screwed up, all right? We were in a tough place, and he had a moment of weakness--”

“You make it sound like he left his wallet at the store. It wasn’t exactly an accident.”

“I know, but when you’re cold and lonely, sometimes you really want to be with someone, and it doesn’t matter who it is. That’s my experience anyway.”

“There were times I was cold and lonely, too, but it’s not like I went over to the neighbor’s house to--” she stopped abruptly, breathing fast through her nose.

“I know.”

“And the whole time I’m waiting for him to come back, he’s...what, doinking the whole nursing staff?” Peg slapped her fork down on the table. Erin jumped and looked between the two of them.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“How would you know what it was like?”

“I shared a tent with the guy - I would have been able to tell if he was heading out for nighttime liaisons.” He rubbed his good hand across his mouth, trying to think how to say this. “Look, he was really torn up about what he’d done. He wandered around in a surly fog for a couple weeks and wouldn’t even laugh at my jokes, which I found very disheartening.”

Peg put her head in one hand, seeming to deflate a little.

“Maybe if he’d just _told_ me about it. We used to tell each other everything, but there’s so much now that he won’t tell me...and finding out something like this happened and I didn’t know…”

Hawkeye shifted uneasily. “Actually...that’s something you _can_ blame me for.”

“What?” she said.

“He was all set to write to you about it right away, but I talked him out of it.”

“Why would you do that?” she demanded, picking up her fork again in a distinctly threatening manner.

Hawkeye held up his hands. “I-I can see now that that may have been the wrong decision.”

“ _May_ have been? We could have worked this out a year ago if it wasn’t for you!”

“I know, I know, but I had two reasons. First, the thought of coming back here to you and Erin was the one thing keeping him from coming completely unglued. I didn’t want to know what would happen if he confessed and it ended up destroying your marriage.”

Peg pressed her lips together in a thin line. “I suppose that makes sense. What was the second reason?”

“Second, if he sent that letter and got shot by one of the snipers, or hit by a shell, it could have been the last letter you ever got from him.”

Peg went white.

“Snipers? Shells? But you were working in a hospital! Why would they shoot at a hospital?”

“That’s what we said. Unfortunately, we didn’t speak Korean, so they didn’t understand when we asked them.” He fussed with the bandage on his hand. “Of course, half the time the shelling was friendly fire, but it doesn’t seem that friendly when you’re getting hit by it.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and then they heard a car pulling up outside. Peg got up and went to the window.

“It’s BJ,” she said. The sight of him seemed to have reignited her anger - she sat down once more and stabbed her unfinished toast with her fork.

BJ came in, caught sight of the two of them at the table, opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again, swinging a fist back and forth awkwardly. Erin, who had slid under the table to play with some toys, crawled out on hands and knees, ran, and hugged BJ’s legs.

“Hey, honey,” he said, dropping his bag and picking her up. He kissed her cheek and gave her a tight hug. Peg got up from the table, too, and went over to them. She took Erin, kissed her, and put her down, then stared up at BJ. For being barely taller than five feet, she managed to look far more imperious than Hawkeye would have expected.

“We’re going to talk about this now,” she said.

BJ nodded, looking nervous.

“Can you watch Erin for a little while, Hawkeye?” she asked.

“Uh...sure,” said Hawkeye. Erin looked over at him, then ran away to hide behind the couch.

“Come on,” she said, taking BJ by the arm and pulling him toward the stairs.

Hawkeye cleared the dishes from the table and put them by the sink, then went to the guest bedroom and pulled a bar of chocolate from his suitcase.

“Are you still behind the couch, Erin?” he said. She didn’t respond, but he heard shuffling sounds coming from that direction. “I have another chocolate bar for you, if you’ll come out and get it,” he said, coaxingly.

No response. He sighed.

“Erin, I’m sorry I scared you last night. I wasn’t angry at you; I was angry at...something else. Will you accept this chocolate bar as an apology?”

Still no response.

“That’s okay. I’ll leave it on the back of the couch if you want it.” He laid it there and watched as a small hand reached up and took it, then settled into the armchair facing the couch to wait.


	9. In Love and War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peg's ready to talk about BJ's infidelity - can the two of them move past it together?

Peg towed BJ into their bedroom and pointed at the bed.

“Sit,” she said.

BJ sat.

Peg stood over him, her face set in anger.

“I want to know what happened.”

BJ felt his heart thumping in his chest.

“Are you sure?” he said. “If it was me, I’d--”

Peg pressed her hand over his mouth to stop him.

“It’s not you. It’s me. Listen to me,” she said. “I’m going to ask you questions. I need you to answer them honestly and directly. Do you understand?”

He nodded, and she took her hand from his mouth.

“Who was she?”

“Why are you assuming it’s a she?” said BJ, in a feeble attempt at a joke.

Peg’s mouth narrowed. “Not the time. Not even close to the time.”

“Sorry.” BJ wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. “She was a nurse.”

“What was her name?”

“Carrie Donovan.”

Peg started to pace back and forth, turning her head to fire questions at him.

“How old was she?”

“I’m not sure. About our age.”

“Was she married?”

“Yes, but about to be divorced.”

“What did she look like?”

“About...five foot seven, light brown hair.”

Peg stopped pacing, her eyes boring into him. “Did you find her attractive?”

BJ couldn’t meet her gaze. “Y-yes,” he said, closing his eyes.

He heard Peg resume her pacing and opened his eyes to see her bare feet padding across the floor.

“How many times?”

“What?”

“How many times did you sleep with her?”

“Oh. Once.”

“Once, that’s it?”

“Yes, only once.”

“Was there anyone else?”

“There was a reporter who tried. I was tempted, but I rejected her.”

Peg let out a breath, sounding a little relieved.

“Who else knows?”

“Hawkeye, obviously. I think he could tell even before it happened.”

“He warned you?”

“He asked me if there was anything going on between Carrie and me. I said no, because at that point there wasn’t, and I didn’t think there would be.”

“Did anyone else know?”

“I didn’t tell anyone else, and I don’t think anyone saw. I don’t know if Carrie told anyone.”

“Where did it happen?”

“In her tent.”

“Why were you in her tent?”

“Her husband sent her a Dear Jane letter, and she was upset, so I offered to talk to her about it. She wanted to talk somewhere we wouldn’t be disturbed, so she suggested her tent.”

“Did she mean for it to happen?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you talk to her about the letter?”

“Yes.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her that eventually she’d move on from her husband and find another great guy.”

“Like you.”

BJ swallowed, unsure if he was supposed to answer.

“What time was it?”

“I’d just come off rounds, so...three or four in the morning.”

“Were you drinking?”

“Yes.”

“Were you drunk?”

“No.”

“Then _why?_ ” Peg demanded, her voice cracking. Her eyes were filling with tears, and BJ felt a lump in his own throat. She punched him in the arm. “Why did you do it?”

BJ looked down - looking into Peg’s face felt like looking into a bright light. “I--” he cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “I could say it was because I was tired and cold and lonely, but I think it was really because I was arrogant. I thought because I loved you I’d be immune. I thought because I wrote you a letter every day and thought about you every night that I could spend time alone with a woman that I found attractive when I was tired and cold and lonely and miserable and so was she, that we could drink together and talk together and nothing would happen. I was so confident I couldn’t make a mistake that I couldn’t see how--how _weak_ I was.” He felt a tear roll down his cheek and he roughly wiped it away. “And I’m so sorry.” He looked up at Peg again as another tear fell. This time she wiped it away for him, then wiped one from her own cheek.

“It’s no fair crying,” she said.

“I know,” he said, more tears falling.

“I love you, you big dumb idiot,” she said, resting her hand on his face.

BJ laughed wetly. “I love you too, tiny angry pixie.”

She stepped closer, pulling him into a hug and resting her hand in his hair. His breath hitched as more tears rolled down his face.

“I’m still angry with you,” she said. “But if you’re extra nice to me, I think I can forgive you in a while.”

But she held him tighter as he started sobbing in earnest, so BJ knew she already had.


	10. Images

That night, as Peg was putting Erin to bed, she came out to the living room where Hawkeye and BJ were sitting, and turned to BJ.

“Erin would like you to read her a story tonight,” she said.

BJ almost leaped off the couch, nearly spilling his drink as he did so.

“Which stories does she like?” he asked. “Does she have a favorite?”

“Ask her - I’m sure she has one in mind.”

“Right--uh--hold this,” he said, handing her his glass.

“You’re very cute,” she said, standing on tiptoe and pulling him down so she could peck him on the cheek. “Have fun.”

He went to Erin’s room, feeling giddy. She’d asked for him!

After the story was finished, he tucked her blankets around her, kissed her forehead, and got up to leave.

“Daddy,” she said, “Why did Hawkeye smash the bottle?”

“Oh,” he said, sitting down again. “Well...did you ask him about it?”

“No. Scary.” She pulled the covers up above her nose.

“It can be scary, to see someone that angry. How can I explain this?” He folded his hands and pressed them to his mouth for a moment. “There are times you get really upset, right? When you get angry and scream or cry, or throw things?”

Erin nodded.

“Well, as you get older, you learn to deal with those feelings, so most of the time you don’t scream or throw things the way you did when you were little. But if...if something really bad happens to you, it can make you very sad and angry whenever you’re reminded of it.”

“Something bad happened to Hawkeye?” Erin asked, pulling the covers back down to her chin.

BJ hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, it did.”

“What happened?”

“He, uh…” BJ rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t tell you exactly what happened, and you can’t ask him, either, understand?”

Erin nodded.

“He was...trying to help some people, but in the end someone died, and he felt like it was his fault. It wasn’t, but...he couldn’t stop blaming himself.”

As he spoke, memories crashed over him - Hawkeye suddenly shouting at the anesthesiologist to stop smothering the patient; someone knocking a table of instruments over, Margaret grabbing Hawkeye’s wrist to stop him from cutting into the patient, the poor kid crying out in fear and starting to struggle on the table as Margaret screamed for help, Col. Potter shouting orders, Klinger and Father Mulcahey wrestling Hawkeye out of the OR...and BJ could do nothing but continue operating because if he left the table his patient might bleed out on him. He made eye contact with a stunned Charles for a second, took a deep breath, then went back to suturing the patient’s bowel, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

BJ wondered how much of that day Hawkeye remembered. He hoped it wasn’t much.

“Daddy?” said Erin.

“Yeah, honey?” said BJ, coming back into himself with some effort.

“Did something bad happen to you, too?”

BJ blinked in surprise. “Not...in exactly the same way,” he said. “But...yes. Bad things happen to most people who go to war.”

“I’ll kiss it and make it better,” said Erin, and she grabbed his hand and gave it a loud kiss.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling. “What do you know? I’m feeling better already.” He actually did feel a little better, strangely enough.

She grinned toothily.

“Time to sleep now, Erin.” He kissed her forehead once more and left the room, turning off the light and closing the door softly.


	11. Peace On Us

On the last day of Hawkeye’s visit, BJ, Peg, and Erin all accompanied him to the San Francisco airport. He chatted happily with them all on the drive over (even Erin seemed to be warming up to him once more), but when Peg took Erin off to use the bathroom at the airport, he seemed to sag a little.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to go back,” he said.

“You can stay longer, if you want to. It’s been good to see you again.”

Hawkeye gave a sardonic half-smile. “Really? In spite of everything?”

“Everything worked out all right, didn’t it? Come on, you can stay another week.”

Hawkeye gave a breathy chuckle. “No, I think Sidney would tell me to go back.”

“All right,” said BJ, “But you can come back anytime you want to.”

“Hey, I did my part - as far as I’m concerned it’s your turn to visit me.”

“I would like to see Maine, at least to know whether it’s as pretty as you always say.”

“It’s better. It’s gorgeous. It defies words.”

Peg and Erin came back from the restroom just as the announcement came over the PA system that Hawkeye’s flight was boarding, so they headed out to the tarmac together. Hawkeye set down his suitcase and turned to the others.

“I’m glad I could finally meet you,” said Peg, passing Erin to BJ so she could hug him.

“Likewise,” he said. After they broke apart, he fished a piece of paper out of the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt and handed it to her. “Here - I wrote down my French toast recipe. Don’t open any restaurants without giving me credit first.”

She laughed and patted him on the cheek affectionately.

BJ passed Erin back to Peg so he could hug Hawkeye as well.

“Thanks for letting me invite myself over,” Hawkeye said as they stepped back.

“Anytime.”

“And sorry for…” he trailed off.

“Honestly I should thank you. We’re better off now than we were before.”

Hawkeye gave another half-smile.

“Remember,” said BJ, clapping him on the shoulder, “We’re making progress, every day.”

Hawkeye nodded.

“Well…” he said, stepping back and giving a little wave.

“Wait, Hawk!” said Erin, reaching out toward him from Peg’s arms. He hesitated, then stepped forward and took her from Peg. He felt his heart stuttering a little with fear, but he was holding a child for the first time since the bus.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Erin,” he said. “Your daddy talked a lot about you when he was away.”

Erin threw her arms around his neck in a hug.

“Feel better, Hawkeye,” she whispered in his ear.

Touched at this, he swallowed a lump in his throat and whispered,”Thank you, Erin.”

He put her down and Peg took her hand.

“I almost forgot,” said Hawkeye, and he knelt down and opened his suitcase. He dug through it for a moment before he found a manila envelope.

“This is for you, Erin,” he said, passing it to her. “Have your mom or dad read it to you.”

With that, he stepped back once more. “Well, goodbye,” he said.

“Goodbye,” said the others.

He lingered for a moment, then turned away and walked toward his plane.

“What’s this?” said Erin, trying to open the envelope.

“Here, I’ll get that for you,” said Peg, bending down to show her how to open it. She pulled a stack of papers out of it and started reading the top one.

“ _To Erin Hunnicutt, I leave a list of all the young men your daddy took care of while he was in Korea. Many of them have him to thank for being alive today. I want you to understand why he had to be away from you those first years of your life. I hope I have the chance to give you this list in person, but around here you never know.”_

She looked up at BJ, who wiped a tear from his eye.

“Doesn’t even let me thank him in person,” he said, shaking his head.

“Well, if you had to go, I’m glad you had someone like him as a friend,” said Peg.

“Me too,” said BJ.

He picked up Erin and put her on his shoulders, and she laughed with delight at being so far off the ground.

“What do you say we go out for burgers?” he said.

“I think that sounds lovely,” said Peg, and together they walked back across the tarmac.


End file.
